


Who In Their Right Mind Would Look For More?

by Aylwyyn228



Series: There was something taking care of me and you [5]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Oblivious Arthur Morgan, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Video Game: Red Dead Redemption 2 (2018), Young Arthur Morgan, Young Dutch van der Linde, Young Hosea Matthews
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:07:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24605920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aylwyyn228/pseuds/Aylwyyn228
Summary: Arthur had been riding with Dutch and Hosea for near on four months now, and sure, he liked 'em well enough. But he just couldn't work them out.He’d thought at first that they were brothers, before he’d overheard enough conversations to disprove that theory. He didn’t have any real basis for how brothers acted with each other, of course, but… They were just… just real comfortable with each other.More comfortable than Arthur could imagine being with anyone who wasn’t family.Not that he had a whole lot of experience on that count either…Or, Arthur is more oblivious than Dutch and Hosea gave him credit for, but he gets there eventually.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan & Dutch van der Linde, Hosea Matthews & Arthur Morgan, Hosea Matthews/Dutch van der Linde
Series: There was something taking care of me and you [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2090346
Comments: 29
Kudos: 198





	Who In Their Right Mind Would Look For More?

**Author's Note:**

> I must have rewritten this a thousand times, so here it is, before I tinker with it any more!
> 
> Title is from Laramie by Goodnight, Texas (which could've been written for Dutch and Hosea)
> 
> Anyway, have some Vandermatthews fluff (feat. young Arthur)
> 
> Enjoy!

It was nearly four months since Arthur’d first thrown in his lot with Dutch and Hosea. Conmen. Thieves. Outlaws. 

And he still couldn’t work them out. 

He’d mostly accepted that they didn’t have any ulterior motives for picking up some kid that’d near on robbed ‘em blind and then pulled a gun on them. 

He didn’t sleep for the first week, certain that he’d wake up with one of em’s hands on him. 

He wasn’t young no more. He’d grown fast the last few years. Hell, he’d grown fast in general. 

He knew the kinds of things men could do. Knew as well that there were precious few good reasons for a couple of grown men to want to drag a kid across the country. And these weren’t  _ good _ men to start with. 

But neither of them had laid a hand on him. Not once. Not even friendly like. 

And after a while he’d cautiously accepted that whatever they wanted, it wasn’t  _ that _ . 

He’d thought then, that maybe they wanted him for a job. Something they needed an extra man for. But in four months they hadn’t asked a damn thing of him. Well, ‘cept to bring money in where he could, and that was no different to what he’d been doin’ before. 

The returns were sure as shit better now too.

Dutch had said, when he’d first made the offer, that they’d share everything equally, and so far that’d been true. They hadn’t let him go hungry, even when he’d messed up, and been lucky to avoid gettin’ strung up, let alone managed to get paid.

A couple of weeks ago, he’d decided to test how far he could push it. He’d outgrown his boots months before, the leather beginning to dig painfully into his toes, and he’d asked Hosea for enough to buy a new pair, outta the stash he knew they kept for medical supplies and emergencies. 

Hosea hadn’t blinked. 

Hadn’t even insisted on coming with him, making sure all of that money went where it should. 

When he’d come back, the two of them had needled him over his new boots. But it was good natured. He kinda liked it.

“You still look like some scraggly urchin from the ankles up, kid,” Dutch had said, flicking the ash from the tip of his cigar, and patting at Hosea’s knee, “but we’ll make a gentleman outta you yet!”

Arthur guessed it was after that that he finally started to relax. Maybe… maybe the boundary between good and bad men wasn’t so clear as he thought. 

But he still couldn’t work the two of them out. 

He’d thought at first that they were brothers, before he’d overheard enough conversations to disprove that theory. 

He didn’t have any real basis for how brothers acted with each other, of course, but… They were just… just real comfortable with each other. 

More comfortable than Arthur could imagine being with anyone who wasn’t family. 

Not that he had a whole lot of experience on that count either… 

Even so, they bickered day and night, about nothing at all. 

On big decisions they were always united. Where they were gonna move to, whether they should rob the big ranch house on the outskirts of town, stuff like that. 

But other than that all they seemed to do was argue. 

Only last night they got into an argument ‘bout where to put their campfire. Privately, Arthur had sided with Hosea, Dutch had lit it too close to the dry leaves underneath the trees, and they were proved right when a gust of wind took an ember into that kindling. 

After a couple of panicked moments, swearing and stamping out flames, they’d got into a real fight, Hosea swearing and cursing Dutch out for never listening. 

Arthur had got out of their way at that point, disappeared off to see to the horses. It set him on edge when people rowed. The horses weren’t far enough away that he couldn’t hear them, but at least he was out of sight. 

When everything settled down, and he went back, it was clear that the fight hadn’t settled anything. Hosea had dragged his bedroll about as far away from Dutch as he could get, and was so hunkered down that Arthur could only just see the top of his head. Dutch was smoking, staring out into the trees, with his back to the, now safely relocated, campfire. 

He didn’t make any sign that he’d heard Arthur return, and frankly Arthur was glad to be able to slip back in unnoticed. He slid under his bedroll silently, watching Dutch’s back. Frightened for the first time that Dutch might turn around and notice him. 

Or that he would decide that the fight wasn’t quite done with and work himself up into a fury, alone with his thoughts. 

Arthur didn’t know what he’d do if the fight turned violent. He didn’t like the thought of either of them gettin’ hurt, but he especially didn’t like the thought of them beatin’ all hell out of each other. 

Particularly if it was one-sided… Particularly if  _ he _ was caught in the middle of it. 

It weren’t often that their bickering went unresolved before nightfall. 

Usually no matter what had happened in the day, their evenings were spent sat close, sharing stories and private jokes. Hosea could keep a straight face at damn near anythin’, but sometimes Dutch had him laughin’ so hard that he could barely breathe. 

Sometimes Dutch would just read to him out of one of the books he kept in his saddlebag. 

Arthur was too damn stupid to make much of what they were talking about, but they seemed to enjoy debating it. Even if it sometimes got Dutch riled up. 

No matter what, they always came back together again. 

He guessed that’s why he’d thought they were family, or… what family should be… or, hell, he didn’t know. 

It made him uneasy, though, watching Dutch’s back in the firelight. 

If they couldn’t make it up, or if their friendship soured, Arthur didn’t know what the fuck he was supposed to do then.

***

Arthur had retreated back out to the horses when Dutch came to find him the next morning. 

Arthur heard him coming, but he didn’t look around. The tension between him and Hosea had not dissipated with the night’s rest, and he didn’t want to give Dutch any reason to take it out on him. 

Dutch’s footsteps stopped a few feet away. There was a moment’s silence, just the sound of Arthur’s brush through Persephone’s tail. “You’re good with them.” 

Arthur shrugged, kept brushing. “Just gotta stay calm. Quiet, I guess.” 

Dutch laughed. “Yeah, well there’s a few stablehands who regretted gettin’ behind Persephone, and I reckon they were calm enough.”

Arthur shrugged again. 

Horses weren’t that hard to work out, ‘s long as you didn’t treat ‘em rough, or be too loud ‘round ‘em. They weren’t exactly subtle ‘bout what they wanted either. If you got up behind ‘em where they didn’t want you, that was your own damn fault as far as Arthur could see. 

He could feel the silence getting strained. 

“Listen,” Dutch said, when he didn’t break it, “can you start tackin’ them up?” 

“Sure. Where we goin?”

“Just into Burton. I, err…“ Dutch trailed off, and Arthur glanced over his shoulder. Dutch was running a hand over the back of his neck, lookin’ awkward. He laughed. Nodded back over to their camp. “Reckon I might need to apologise to the old girl. Tempers are gettin’ a little frayed. Thought we could let our hair down.” 

“Sure,” Arthur said again, because he didn’t have anything else to say, and Dutch seemed to be expecting some response. 

“Thanks, kid.” Dutch raised his hand like he might pat Arthur’s back, and then clearly thought better of it. He smiled instead. “We’ll head out just as soon as we get packed up.” 

As he walked away, Arthur thought he mightn’t have minded so much if Dutch wanted to pat him on the shoulder. 

***

It was midmorning by the time they got into Burton. Arthur had passed through once, maybe a year ago, and it was exactly the same as he remembered. Muddy, with small, narrow streets, built onto the hillside. But it seemed prosperous enough. Not city rich, but the land around was good for timber, and that seemed to be enough for most of the residents to make a decent living. 

And Hosea’s mood seemed to have lifted on the ride, so maybe Dutch had been right. 

He’d even told Arthur about a scam they’d pulled years ago, in an old frontier town in the south, one that’d had Dutch cackling to himself up the road on Toledo. 

Dutch’s reaction had seemed to please Hosea even more. 

They hitched their horses outside the town’s post office, which doubled as a hotel, and Hosea beckoned him inside while Dutch sorted out their bags.

Arthur guessed that was part of Dutch’s apology too, since it was the first damn time he hadn’t just strolled off and left all of that to the two of them. 

The inside of the post office was warm enough after the chilly air outside. It hadn’t got too far into winter yet, but this high in the hills, the nights were beginning to ice over.

Arthur couldn’t say he wasn’t glad to be sleeping under cover, even for a night. 

“Hello, mister.” Hosea raised his hand in greeting to the clerk. “We’ll be wanting a room, if you can.” 

The clerk was dour-faced and grim looking. He was maybe Hosea’s age, thereabouts, but his dark hair was shot through with grey already. 

Arthur didn’t like the way he scowled at Dutch out of the window. 

The clerk folded his arms, like he’d given ‘em the once over and decided they were scum on his heels. “Only got doubles.” 

“That’s fine,” Hosea said easily, already tipping out some coins into his palm. He nodded towards Arthur. “My son and I can share. Give my business partner out there a break from the boy.” 

Arthur felt Hosea’s hand against his back, and he froze. 

He could barely remember the last time someone had touched him without intending violence. 

He made an effort to look a little less like a spooked rabbit. 

They’d played this one before. People liked to deal with families better than three strange men, and Hosea was about the right age. 

They looked enough alike too. 

It seemed to work anyway, as the clerk lost the suspicious edge to his look. Arthur guessed he hadn’t given them away by lookin’ too awkward with the unexpected contact. 

“What’s your business?” The clerk asked, much more friendly, as he accepted the cash and passed Hosea their keys. 

“Prospecting,” Hosea said, without missing a beat. 

The clerk raised his eyebrows. “Oil or iron?” 

“Gold.” 

The clerk frowned. “Not much call for that round here.” 

“I don’t know about that." Hosea smiled, widely, and shot a glance back at Dutch, as he finally entered behind them, their saddlebags slung over his shoulders. "It does usually seem to turn up.”

***

Arthur had been left to his own devices once they’d dropped their things off in Dutch’s room. He had instructions to try and make money if he could, but not to get into any trouble. 

“I do not intend to get run outta town ‘fore I’ve had chance to make use of that bed, you hear?” Dutch had warned, pullin’ a laugh out of Hosea, like it was a joke they’d shared before. 

Well, Arthur didn’t know many legitimate ways of makin’ money, and folks tended to not like it when he loitered around the stores, so he’d changed into his old, worn-through boots, and walked out to the small stables he remembered being just out of town.

It was simple enough to pull a sob story outta his ass, how his pa had up and died and left him all alone, and he was just passing through, and how he didn’t know much but he was good for labourin’. It was enough to get him a day shovelling shit out of the stalls. It didn’t pay much, but he got to pet the horses, and the owner’s wife had fed him as much mutton and bread as he could stomach, before pressing a couple of extra dollars into his hand. 

And if a few of the horse tonics and treats had made their way into his coat on his way out, then he doubted they’d miss ‘em all that much. 

He’d returned to their rooms around sunset with heavy pockets, and decided to take a bath while he had the chance and the funds. The clerk didn’t seem to much care what he’d been up to to get all messed up, as long as he didn’t track mud inside. 

When he’d got back to the room, Hosea still wasn’t back. 

Which was… disappointing, really. 

He was kinda proud of talkin’ his way into the stables, and he kinda wanted to share it. 

Still, he guessed they’d come into town so Dutch could make it up to Hosea, so if they’d got to talkin’ in the saloon that was good. 

He spent the next few hours sketching in an old notebook he’d lifted from a store a few months back. Drawing the horses from the stable, but since it was from memory he doubted they were right. 

If Dutch and Hosea wanted to stay another day, he might walk back up to the stable tomorrow morning and fix them. But then that mightn’t be too sensible if they’d noticed his sticky fingers. 

It got late, while he was waiting for Hosea to come back. Late enough that it’d begun to get rowdy outside, as the saloon patrons began to spill out onto the street in ones and twos. It all sounded reasonably amiable though so he guessed he shouldn’t be too worried. 

He did wonder when exactly he’d started worrying  _ for _ Dutch and Hosea, rather than about them. 

Course, he’d always known that any trouble that came to them would as like find him as well, but somewhere along the line, it’d started to matter that they didn’t get hurt. 

He didn’t know what he’d do if they died. 

He’d be on his own again, and… 

The thought of it made his eyes burn, so he  _ didn’t _ think about it, and focussed back on his pictures. 

***

When Arthur woke it was with a weird sense of disorientation. He shot up, because the mattress underneath his face was unfamiliar, and he didn’t recognise the room. 

He couldn’t remember what he’d been dreaming, but from the way his heart was racing, he was sure it wasn’t anythin’ good. 

As he got his bearings again, he started to work out where he was. 

He must’ve fallen asleep, sprawled across the bed. The edge of his notebook had pressed a ridge into the side of his arm, and the lamp was still burning on the nightstand. 

And he was alone. 

He glanced around the room, but there was no evidence that Hosea had returned. 

His boots and coat were still missing. 

Arthur looked to the window. He had no real way of tellin’ the time. It was dark outside, real dark, but there was a lightening to the sky over east which told him it was edging closer to dawn than midnight. 

A thin trickle of unease began to run down his spine. 

Where was Hosea? 

He couldn’t help his mind racing. 

What if something had happened? What if they’d got themselves into trouble? What if someone recognised them? 

They coulda got picked up by the law! 

They coulda got into a fight! What if they were lyin’ bleedin’ somewhere, and Arthur had just fallen asleep!

He pushed himself to his feet. 

Had he heard shoutin’ last night? Someone being loud in the street? Some commotion on the stairs? Maybe, he vaguely remembered it. 

He’d got used to tuning out drunken arguments in the long nights he’d been on the streets. He’d got used to sleepin’ through damn near anything, but what if he  _ had _ slept through it?

He was moving before he’d really thought about it. All he could imagine was Dutch and Hosea out in the street, dumped in some goddamn ditch and he had to find them. He had to go find them, right now. 

The hotel was quiet, in that hushed way buildings were when their occupants were asleep, but all Arthur could think was that it sounded like a deathwatch. 

It made him clumsy, careless on the stairs, enough to make the boards creak loudly. 

When he got to the bottom, he near on had a heart attack when the door at the back of the till flew open. 

“I told you, I don’t want no more trouble outta-” The clerk hissed, dressed only in a nightshirt, but he cut himself off when he recognised Arthur. “Oh, it’s you.” 

“You seen my… my father?” Arthur remembered at the last minute who they’d said they were. 

He probably shouldn’t have let on that they were missin’, if it was that they’d been picked up by the law, then it’d give the clerk fair time to shop him too, but Arthur was too frazzled and tired, and he’d just realised what a damn stupid thing it was to go wanderin’ the streets in the middle of the night. 

The clerk scowled at him. “He came back, maybe two hours ago, with that… that  _ partner _ of his. Made a right commotion about it as well.”

“Oh,” Arthur said, feelin’ relief sink into his gut, before realising that that just raised more questions. “Oh?” 

The clerk was still scowling at him, apparently having noticed the same. “Listen, y’all have paid a pretty penny for the rooms, so I don’t much care what your business is, but I run a respectable establishment here.” He folded his arms. “I want all of y’all out in the mornin’, you hear me?” 

Arthur nodded. “Yessir.” 

“Good,” the clerk gestured up the stairs, “now get! ‘Fore you wake my wife again.”

Arthur didn’t need tellin’ twice. 

He heard the clerk curse as he caught the creaky step again, but he was on the upstairs corridor before he could say anything. 

It was only once he got there that he realised he hadn’t actually answered his question. Dutch and Hosea had come back, but were they still here? Why hadn’t Hosea come to bed? 

They… they wouldn’t have just abandoned him here… 

But what if he hadn’t brought enough money in..? What if they’d wanted someone better than him?

Arthur made an effort to calm down.

It seemed an elaborate scheme to get rid of him, when they could've just outright told him to get lost anytime they wanted. Hell, it wasn’t as if he’d tagged along with them, they’d offered! 

Hosea had promised to teach him cards. Had been talkin’ about gettin’ him a new coat for the ride north. 

No, they must still be here. The clerk would’ve heard if they’d left. 

They must’ve gone to Dutch’s room, but why? 

The clerk had said they made a fuss when they’d got back. What’d that mean? Was one of them hurt? 

Maybe they’d got into a fight after all. They mightn’t have wanted to wake him. 

He had to know. Couldn’t possibly go back to sleep until he was sure they were both alright. 

Arthur set off down the corridor. He reached the room he thought was Dutch’s and tried the door, just turning the handle a little. It didn’t budge. He could’ve guessed it would be locked. 

He should knock, but he was worried he might’ve got turned around in the dark. If it was the wrong room, he didn’t wanna wake up a random angry stranger. Better to be sure first.

He knelt down, and felt in his coat pocket for his pick. 

In the silence of the night it was almost too easy to listen for the clicks of the lock mechanism. He felt it give, and turned the handle slowly, so as not to give himself away with the sound of the latch. 

He carefully pushed the door open.

The room was silent but for breathing, so he hadn’t woken anyone. 

The predawn light from outside was just as bright in here, he could see well enough. The bed was directly opposite the doorway, a mirror of his own room. 

Then the dark, and the shadows, and the moonlight righted themselves in his brain, and he made out Dutch and Hosea both. 

Hosea’s mouth was open, a little, loose and relaxed, deep in sleep. 

Dutch was pressed up against his back. He had his arm draped loosely across Hosea’s waist, curled into each other. From this angle, it looked as though he had his forehead pressed against the cloth of Hosea’s thin shirt. 

Close. 

Real, real close. 

They were both breathing, steady and even, and they were… 

They were… 

…Honestly, that made a lot of sense.

Perhaps Arthur shifted his weight awkwardly, or perhaps Dutch was just that light a sleeper, but in a heartbeat too quick for Arthur to react, Dutch’s eyes were open. 

Arthur didn’t move. Couldn’t have moved if his life’d depended on it.

Dutch lifted his head just slightly, away from Hosea, and from the look on his face, Arthur knew he must be clearly visible in the light from the window. 

“Kid?” Dutch said, so low that it was almost a whisper. “Y’alright?” 

“I wasn’t…” Arthur didn’t know what to say. “I thought…” 

He didn’t manage to find the end of that sentence, but what he thought must have been pretty apparent from his face, because Dutch nodded ever so slightly.

“He’s alright,” he said, just as quietly as before. “He’s right here.” 

Now Arthur was nodding, because words were failing him. 

Dutch oughta be angry. 

Dutch oughtn’t be… be here, with Hosea… but he was, and Arthur couldn’t bring himself to care much. Too relieved that they were both here still, and that he finally  _ understood _ .

Dutch was still nodding. “Go on now, get back to bed.” 

He sat up a little higher, looking like he was goin’ to get up and usher him out, and the movement shifted some of the blankets over them. 

Hosea made a noise, something that was more of a grunt than a question, and Dutch went still. 

And if Arthur was still unsure about anything, then the look on Dutch’s face as he looked down at Hosea dispelled all doubt. 

Dutch glanced up at him, the expression on his face clear and guarded all at once. And then he leaned carefully over Hosea to grab something off the nightstand. 

“Here,” he whispered, and then waited until Arthur had his hands up before he tossed something over. 

Arthur caught the key with both hands. 

“Lock our door behind you,” Dutch whispered, still watching Hosea. “Shove the key back under.” 

Arthur nodded. Anything he wanted to say caught in his throat, like Dutch’s unwillingness to wake Hosea was contagious. 

He stepped backwards, retreating into the corridor. 

“Kid,” Dutch said again, and when Arthur met his eyes he could see that he was smiling. “You’re a hell of a lockpick, but don’t you ever pick  _ my _ lock again, you hear me?”

Arthur nodded again, and pulled the door shut behind him, making sure again that the latch didn’t click. He turned the key, and crouched back down to push the key under. Through the wood, he heard the quiet murmur of Hosea saying something. 

“Nothin’,” he heard Dutch answer, through the rustle of sheets. “Some drunk tryin’ the door. It wasn’t anythin’.” 

Arthur pushed himself back up and ran quietly back to his room.

***

Arthur would’ve thought that he’d’ve been awake all night with… with the revelations… 

But he wasn’t. He slept deep, and dreamless. And when he woke he couldn’t say he was plagued with doubts. 

Dutch and Hosea were… the way they were… and that wasn’t as surprising as it should probably be. 

If he could see him, Arthur knew his father would be spinnin’ in his unmarked grave if he wasn’t already burnin’ in hell, and Arthur found he couldn’t care. 

Dutch and Hosea were better men in four months than his father had managed to be his entire goddamn life, and may God  _ damn _ anyone who said otherwise. 

When he did wake, still alone, it was later than he’d intended, so he got dressed and packed up in a mad scramble. They would no doubt be wanting to move on quickly, particularly given they’d apparently worn out their welcome with the clerk. 

He realised Dutch and Hosea mightn’t have realised they were on the clock, and it would be infinitely better if the two of them didn’t get a wake up call from anyone other than him.

When he was ready, he stole back down the corridor, and knocked at Dutch’s door. “It’s me,” he said, just in case. 

The door opened instantly. It was Dutch, dressed and bright-eyed. The front of his hair was wet where he’d clearly splashed water in his face. 

“Hey, kid.” 

He ushered Arthur inside. 

Hosea was still curled up tight on the bed, where Dutch had evidently left him, still out of it. Not surprising, given Hosea didn’t exactly love mornings at the best of times, and they’d apparently had an eventful night. 

“You alright, kid?” Dutch asked, voice low.

Arthur turned back to Dutch, and he wasn’t sure, but he thought that he looked a little worried. 

“I met the clerk,” Arthur said, deciding not to mention exactly when. He was at least a little ashamed that he’d managed to work himself up into such a fit. “He wants us out, quick like.” 

Dutch grimaced. “I… yeah, that’s not unexpected.” He took a couple of steps towards the bed, then stopped in his tracks. “Sorry, ‘bout last night. I…” He gestured between himself and Hosea on the bed. “We… thought you-”

“It’s fine.” 

Dutch raised his eyebrows. “It’s fine?” 

“Yeah.” 

And it was. 

Maybe Dutch and Hosea were goin’ to hell, but so was he, so it didn’t seem to matter all that much which sin sent ‘em down. 

Besides, Dutch and Hosea were good men… he didn’t know how he’d come to that reckonin’, but he had. 

They’d been good to  _ him _ , at least, and that was all that mattered about now. 

Dutch just nodded, and carried on over to the bed. He shook Hosea’s shoulder, lightly, and was met with a groan. Hosea pressed his face deeper into the pillow. “Oh Lord.” 

Dutch hummed apologetically. “I know, but we gotta go. We didn’t make a lot of friends last night. We’ll ride for an hour or so, and then get you set up with a coffee.” 

Hosea grunted something else, and Dutch just patted at his back. He looked back towards Arthur. “Go get the horses ready. I’ll get him up.” 

Arthur did as he was told. 

It didn’t take long to get the horses saddled and ready. 

The morning was bright and clear, and definitely beginning to feel like winter. Arthur started to get cold as he sat on the low fence, alternately feeding sugar cubes to the three horses, and trying not to get knocked flying when Persephone started mouthing at his coat. 

Finally, Dutch and Hosea emerged. Dutch lookin’ just as put together as he always did. Hosea lookin’ distinctly green. 

“Thanks, kid,” Dutch said easily, as he mounted Toledo. 

As the three of them mounted up, the clerk emerged to see them off, or, more likely, to see that they left with minimal trouble. 

Dutch caught sight of him as he spurred forwards, and waved cheerily. “You have a pleasant day now!” 

Arthur couldn’t help but laugh as the clerk’s scowl deepened. 

It didn’t take them long to leave the town behind and get into the hills. Once they were clear, Dutch slowed them down, letting the horses amble up the steep trail. 

“Well, I guess that’s another town we’re not welcome in again,” Dutch said, not sounding the least bit upset by it. 

Hosea grunted again, though whether he was acknowledging the point, or just generally miserable, Arthur couldn’t tell. 

“Lord,” Hosea said, finally, thickly, and leaned down low over his saddlehorn. “Feel like you stubbed your cigar out in my mouth. I can’t ride for an hour, Dutch. I need to sit down.” 

“I know. Let’s just put a few miles between us and them, alright?” 

“Jesus,” Hosea said. Emphatically. 

“What happened last night?” Arthur asked, bringing his horse up alongside Hosea, just in case his balance was worse than it looked. 

“Dutch got me drunk,” Hosea said, eyes closed against the sunlight, “on the shittiest bourbon in the world.” 

“Oh,  _ I _ got you drunk, did I? And I didn’t hear you complainin’ much at the time.”

“Surprised I’m not fuckin’ blind.” 

“The drink wasn’t that bad!” 

Hosea squinted at Arthur and mouthed ‘godawful’. 

“Anyway,” Dutch carried on, “you enjoyed the poker.” 

“I did enjoy the poker.” 

“Did you win?” Arthur asked.

Dutch laughed. “Old boy cleaned out half the bar!” 

Arthur looked back at Hosea. “Really?” 

Dutch was still shouting. “Best card shark for a hundred miles, even blind drunk.” 

“Did you really win all that?” Arthur asked again. 

“Well, I oughta have,” Hosea said, and started fishing about in his pocket, drawing out an ace of diamonds, “given I’m still carrying half the deck.” 

He flicked the card at Arthur’s chest with his thumb, letting Arthur catch it clumsily. 

“Keep it for luck, son.” Hosea winked and urged Persephone forwards. “Pick up the pace a little, Dutch. If I don’t get some coffee into me, I’m gonna die. That is not an exaggeration.” 

Dutch grinned, and spurred on harder, the two of them leaving Arthur trailing. “What? Can’t handle your liquor, old man?” 

“It wasn’t me that woke up half the goddamn hotel fallin’ down the stairs!” 

“I didn’t fall, I tripped cos I was all but carryin’ you!” 

They passed out of sight, around the rise. 

Arthur shoved the ace into his pocket. He spurred onwards, at a trot, enjoying the morning. He wasn’t too worried about losing them. He could follow the sound of their bickering all the way through the trees. 

**Author's Note:**

> Now, I'm not saying that Dutch and Hosea were getting snippy because they couldn't bang with Arthur in camp, but I'm also not not saying that... ;)


End file.
